


Spark

by GabrielLives



Category: Supernatural
Genre: 14x01 canon, AU world, Angel Blades, Bring back gabriel, Exodus - Freeform, Gabriel (Supernatural) is Loki, Gen, I'm begging you, Loki is Gabriel, So what happened to gabriel, The archangel blade kills the angel but not the host
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-14
Updated: 2018-10-14
Packaged: 2019-08-01 20:42:07
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 706
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16291418
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GabrielLives/pseuds/GabrielLives
Summary: After the fall of the golden archangel, what is left inside of him?





	Spark

**Author's Note:**

> So...we have new canon to deal with. An archangel blade allegedly won't kill the host vessel.  
> Ok  
> We can work with that.  
> Whatever I can grab on to keep my angel alive in any way.

When he woke, it was with a gasp. 

His lungs burned as he desperately tried to get oxygen into his system, taking in large gulps of air as harsh coughing fits racked his lungs.

Everything hurt. Every spasm of his body caused pain to flash through his body like lightning. It snaked through his veins, centering at his chest. He shifted on the rough ground, the stones and sticks caused fresh waves of pain through him. 

As he caught his breath, the bright sunlight shown harshly, and he clenched his eyes closed as a hand shakily rose up to prod at the radiating pain in his ribs.

_ Gods, everything hurts. _

He winced at the cold clamminess he felt, as he pulled himself up to a sitting position.

_ What happened? _

His eyes went wide as he gazed down at his shirt, the amount of blood that had soaked through it. More than what a person should be able to lose and still be functioning. His breathing started picking up again as he frantically lifted the gory fabric and ran his fingers over his skin. 

There was no mar in his flesh, though, and he let out a shaky breath in relief. He sat there for a moment, reveling in the fact that he wasn't dying…

_ Again _

...That was a intriguing thought. Had he died before? The question rang in his mind as he sat there. Out of the corner of his eyes, he noticed the charring of the grass around him. He turned his head further, eyeing the patterns of black and ash around him. 

The shape became recognizable, and he scrambled off the ground, not wanting to be close to those immense angel wings seared into the ground. 

“Gabriel…”

The name rolled off his tongue, yet he didn't know why he knew it. 

Another wave of pain rolled through him, doubling him over with agony, and with it came the memories. 

The pain of venom in his eyes. The bond of friendship with an angel. Sharing a spark of his self to help a new born Trickster. 

“He’s dead,” he whispered. “Oh. Gabriel is dead.” 

He spares a moment of mourning, for the being that could have been his friend, maybe more. 

But he isn't all himself right now. He’s just a flicker of a shadow of what he was before. 

He snapped, hoping to conjure something small, just one small sucker. The sound echoed through the field, but nothing happened. No sweet appeared in his hands, nothing changed in the bloody meadow. He dug down, looking for the thrumming of pagan power that kept him alive for eons before. But there was nothing to grab on to, nothing to remind him of his former self. Just the memories of his other self, and they did him no good. 

There was a rustling in the trees around him. He didn't hear it, his mind was trying to keep up with the flood of memories that was threatening to overtake him. Figures emerged from the trees, brandishing long silver blades that glinted in the light. He ignored them, trying not to break down at the loss of his power.

He finally turned as he was surrounded, gazed at the men that encircled him.

No, not men.

“Angels.”

He saw past their skin, the auras of the beings underneath glowing wide and tall. He could see them, see what they really were. Yet, as he looked, he was unable to draw upon the power he could remember having. The power to trick, to defend himself, to run. 

“What are you doing here?” the leader of the angels yelled. “Where is Michael?”

He stood stone still, his hands up in placating defense. 

“I-I don't know.” 

The angels looked at each other, silently communicating. And it infuriated him that he could no longer pick up on those thoughts, when he knew he used to be able to.

The head angel approached, his angel blade lifted high and threatening at his throat. 

“What is your name,” he demanded.

“...Loki,” he said after a pause.

The blade at his neck pressed in further as the angel that held it furrowed his brow. 

“Come with us.”

Loki scowled as he followed the order.

**Author's Note:**

> My thought is, what if when Loki was setting gabriel up after he left heaven , and he gave him a tiny sliver of his power. Just enough to jump start his trickster powers?  
> And now that Gabriel isn't there any more (false. My boy is alive) that sliver wakes up?


End file.
